The Last Tear She'll Have to Shed
by The Illustrious Crackpot
Summary: At the end of the movie, Emily gave up Victor so Victoria could marry him. But how do both women REALLY feel about this?


The Last Tear She'll Have to Shed

(The Illustrious Crackpot)

Victoria Everglot shivered in the cold of the winter. She pulled her makeshift shawl, truthfully the tattered scrap of what _used_ to be her bedroom quilt, closer around her pale, heart-shaped face. Victoria's long, elegant dress slid softly over the blanket of snow covering the floor of the old, dead forest. She looked about, and as she did a wisp of her youngly gray hair came out of its tight, rigid bun and drooped across her face. Was she in the right place?

"Pardon me..." Victoria called out, her voice carrying eerily through the silent grove. She felt like recoiling, or even going back; but the resolve to know strengthened her heart, and biting her lip she pressed on.

After a short while she hit the winding river, which was frozen over in this time of year. Victoria pictured in her mind the map that she had been gazing at for a while before her departure; this was the same river that ended up snaking its way around itself and under the bridge near town. She was in the right place, but now she had another problem of how she would cross. Certainly her ladylike shoes were of no use to tread the perilous ice, which even Victor's more hardy footwear had slid upon. Luckily, though, there was a fallen log stretched over the river a few yards away from where Victoria stood, so very carefully she crossed with that, hesitantly placing one foot in front of the other until she was over.

After that she had a bit of a slope to tackle, but trudging faithfully through the wood she managed to make it to the crest. There Victoria paused to call again. "Excuse me...hello...?"

No answer except her dying echoes.

Victoria hastened down the slope, her shawl drawn over her slight shoulders. There she came to a grove, where just as Victor had described to her there was a treestump about the same height and proportion as her father. Victoria chuckled at the thought, then looked around for the other landmarks. Sure enough, it was all as Victor had said. She had her best chance here, if she did not want to prematurely have to cross into the other life.

"Pardon me," Victoria called out timidly again, "very sorry, but is there any chance that I might speak to...speak to..." In the sudden moment, Victoria realized that she had no idea of the name of the one she was trying to address. She would have to improvise as well as she could, and trying her hardest to not cause any hurt feelings towards whoever might have been listening, Victoria attempted once more, "Is...is Miss Corpse Bride here?"

Though not much changed on the outside, Victoria thought that she felt a slight chill from something _other_ than the dreadfully cold weather. The dead trees around her seemed to have caught their breath, and it seemed as though even the air itself was waiting for something. Perhaps might this have been a bad idea...?

At present, a butterfly flittered nearly out of thin air and descended in front of Victoria. The small creature, Victoria noticed as it fluttered slightly above her head, was a bright, iridescent blue, with swirled dark markings about the tips of its delicate wings. She recognized the pattern, but dared not break the silence. She did not have to, because a smooth, feminine voice broke in neatly from no visible source. "I would suppose you mean me," stated the disembodied voice with a twinge of humor in its tones.

Victoria became excited in her success, and, dropping the shawl, she burst, "Yes, please!" In a gasp, however, she remembered her manners and bent her head in retribution. "That is, if you would kindly take the time...and please, forgive me for—"

"—the 'Miss Corpse Bride'?" interrupted the voice, and in the air around the hovering butterfly Victoria could almost detect the shadow of a slight, ethereal smile. "Don't apologize. I realize that we never formally met."

Though immensely relieved that she had not caused any offense, Victoria nevertheless could not easily keep up with the constantly-moving butterfly in order to keep her eyes on it as she spoke. "Pardon me," she apologized once more, "but, if I may be excused for saying so, it's rather hard to talk to a butterfly. If you could...? Though it would be perfectly all right if—"

"Of course!" the voice broke in once more, halting Victoria's apology. "You needn't be so stiffly polite all the time, just the simple request itself would be enough." Victoria dropped her head a bit embarrassedly, but rose it again as the butterfly stopped in midair, its wings only fluttering gently to keep it suspended. Another butterfly, then another, and two and three and four more, all fluttered into the grove, growing vastly in number. All bore the same blue coloring and marks as the first butterfly, and they all swirled around the first butterfly so quickly that Victoria's head began to spin as well. Then, once the butterfly were moving faster than her eyes could track, the huge shape of all of them congregated together seemed to grow smaller, to thin, and soon in another whirl the butterflies were gone and a woman stood in their place. It was certainly the same whom Victoria had been calling; the beautiful pale blue skin, dark hair like seaweed, her left arm naught but bone and in the longest, most flowing, prettiest wedding dress Victoria had ever seen, topped with an elegant veil that perfectly framed the wearer's high cheekbones and sunken, but deep and loving, eyes.

Extending her fleshed right arm, the figure smiled a bit shyly at Victoria. "Emily," she offered, and shaking off her shock Victoria smiled back and accepted the hand in her own.

"Victoria Everglot."

Victoria slowly released the handshake, and Emily withdrew her own hand. "Though you'll be Victoria Van Dort soon enough?" Emily said quietly, smiling a little mischievously.

Victoria blushed as she said it, but it was a happy glow. "Tomorrow," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "After what happened a few days ago with Lord Barkis, my parents were reluctant to wed me to anyone without money. But after Mayhew died, Victor's father and mother hired another worker and their profits are slowly building again, so Mother..." She whispered the last part, her blush deepening. "...Mother said _yes_."

"I'm happy for you," Emily murmured softly, and Victoria looked up with a smile greeting Emily's own before she saw the slight pain mirrored in the corpse's eyes.

"I'm _sorry!_" Victoria gasped in horror at her own unfeeling. Putting a hand against her heart, she turned her face away. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Even as Victoria kept her eyes averted, Emily stepped lightly over to her and, reaching out with one hand, cupped Victoria's chin and moved it delicately so that Victoria was looking at Emily. "I asked, remember?" Emily chuckled, and though Victoria could still see her pain she also realized how sincere the former bride had been in wishing Victoria well with her husband. "Don't feel sorry."

Though Emily spoke softly and in forgiveness, Victoria kept her eyes averted. "But I..." she tried, "...I took him away from you."

Emily's smile was still in place as she dropped her hand from Victoria's chin, but her eyes still reflected her sadness. Victoria, more than anything, felt extreme guilt for what she had done, selfishly it seemed now. For her own happiness she had taken away Emily's, and so recently that both felt their pain freshly.

"...No," the corpse refuted as she turned her back to Victoria in shame. Bowing her head, Emily went on quietly. "_I_ took him from _you_. Though it was _he_ who asked _me_ for marriage, unwittingly and without knowing it..._I_ was the dropped stitch in _your_ plans, and I spoiled them all for you."

Victoria was shocked. She had expected to apologize to her marital opposite, but here she was, being offered condolence _herself_. "No! That's not it at all!" she protested, hurrying over to Emily. "If anyone, _I_ should apologize to _you_." Timidly, Victoria put a hand on Emily's shoulder. "You would have been happy with Victor, and here I am, about to be _married_ to him..."

The silence persisted between them as Victoria awkwardly tried to comfort Emily. Victoria had been raised to be polite, and to present a good choice of spouse to a wealthy man. Her personality and kindness had therefore been of her own devising, and she had no idea _how_ to support someone, much less if the someone's grief was because of her...

Almost unbidden the question came to Victoria's hesitant, quivering lips. "That's what I came to ask," she began, quietly, slowly. "You were almost joined to Victor forever, to be happy with him your whole life. But you..." Victoria took in a gulp of air. "...you gave him to me instead." Then quietly, so quietly Victoria almost couldn't tell if she'd said it or not: "Why?"

Emily tried another smile at her, then briskly strode over to a fallen, moss-covered log and sat down. Victoria followed suit, though only after a little reluctance to sit on something so...un-manmade. Side by side, Emily turned to face Victoria. "I didn't _have_ to give him to you," Emily murmured. Victoria gazed at her questioningly, but her companion explained herself with effort and some soft, hidden sadness. "His heart _already_ belonged to you, and all the while I was with him I could always see the vestiges of love in his heart—though it was for another woman all along, and not for me."

Victoria turned her face down again, once more ashamed of the painful subjects that she had been readily discussing. "But then...why did he want to _die_ to marry you?"

Without looking up, Victoria felt a sort of cool, tender touch on her hand as Emily placed her own on top of it. "Because he thought that _you_ were dead to him. After all, Mayhew had told him that you'd been married to another man."

"Lord Barkis," Victoria muttered distastefully. "I hope they dealt with him well enough after he died."

Emily chuckled rather darkly. "I don't think he'll be toying with the hearts of young women in _either_ life," she insinuated, and Victoria realized with a jolt _exactly_ what Emily meant. Victor had told her, when he'd been in the Land of the Dead, that Emily had been in _love_ with the cheating swindler, and he'd..._killed_ her and taken her money.

Victoria took a deep breath and sighed. "After all _you've_ been through," she declared smally, "I'm ashamed to have to be the receiver of such happiness tomorrow."

Emily surprised her repentant companion by laughing aloud. "You're rather _silly!_" the corpse proclaimed, squeezing Victoria's hand lightly as she looked into the girl's eyes. "Who," she began, smiling affectionately, "would be _ashamed_ of being _happy?_"

Though she wanted to keep smiling, Victoria had to note something. "You were the only one," she said quietly, "who expressed her feelings so bluntly to Victor."

There was still some pain on the edges of Emily's smile, but it was still as sincere as it had been. "I know." The one phrase, as simple as it was, meant the world to both of them. "And that is why I want _him_ to be happy. I was a bride as well, long before you, and I couldn't take Victor's dreams away just to make myself happy."

"But you still suffer," Victoria pointed out, then wished she hadn't as Emily cast her eyes down once more.

"Yes," she admitted, "unrequited love is rather painful. But, more than having my love returned...I want to see the one I love happy. Even if it meant that he'd make _you_ the luckiest woman dead or alive rather than me."

Silence descended again in the grove, broken only by a slight sound as though of the fluttering of a butterfly's wing. At this sound Emily stood up gracefully, and Victoria's hand fell limp to her side as she hastened to rise as well. Turning, Emily announced as butterflies swirled once more around her, "I must leave now."

Surprised at the suddenness of it all, Victoria tried to stop her. "But wait!" she called, then attempted, "Won't you please stay for the wedding? Or could you at—at _least_ come to the house for dinner?"

Emily seemed mildly astonished by the request, but smiled as she shook her head slowly. "Truly I would love to," she apologized, "but I _can't_ eat...I'm dead. As for the wedding—it would cause more pain than good for Victor to see me again, especially on the eve of his wedding."

The butterflies' movement sped up, and Victoria could only catch glimpses of the corpse bride through the blur of their flight. Desperately, as the whole body of insect-and-Emily began to rise up into the bleak sky, Victoria shouted up, "Emily...may we part as friends?"

Though she wasn't absolutely sure, Victoria thought that she saw a slight smile within the blurring motions of the butterfly wings. Then Victoria blinked, and when her eyes opened again the mass of butterflies had disappeared, and in their place was just the single insect, luminescent and blue, fluttering up towards the heavens.

Another chill wind blew, and Victoria grabbed her makeshift shawl again from the snow-covered ground, wrapping it around her. As she headed back towards the frozen river, she looked back towards the solitary butterfly, and its flittering wings seemed to be waving at her. Smiling, Victoria waved back.

"I hope, Emily," she murmured to no one but herself, "that you may never again have cause to shed tears."

With that she headed back in the direction of the bridge, beyond which lie her home, her parents, and Victor...and her chance at living the life Emily had allowed her.


End file.
